Author's note: Bear with me. Canada's RL politicians are completely screwing up their acquisition plans. I am not a big proponent of the F-35 with all it's problems and I don't think that it's the right fighter for Canada. I'm sorry, I'm Canadian - HOCKEY, Oh Canada, poutine and all that (in that order). Yay Canada! Actually I lean towards the Eurofighter though it's expensive – two engines…etc. But the Gripen might fit the role better – Swedish, performs well in cold-weather.
JAG HQ, Falls Church, VA 1635hrs
Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie was still irate sixteen and a half hours later. How dare that irritating naval aviator treat her that way? Harm's avoidance of the issues surrounding their relationship angered her. Did she really pick a bad time to go over? Her conscience prickled indicating the slight possibility that she should have picked a better time to confront Harm over his avoidance issues but the flash of anger that produced pretty much obliterated the idea that she was in the wrong. Well, if that idiot hadn't continued to dodge the issue, they would have been able to solve the problem. What if he didn't come back? Mac didn't want to contemplate that issue, but she hadn't wanted to leave things the way they were if perchance he wasn't able to make it back. That's why she had gone over and tried to talk things out but his snappish response and the way he had shut down had made conversation an impossibility. As usual, Mac believed that her way was the way that things should have been done without regard for the other side of the issue – which was Harm had minimal sleep and had to fly an important mission. And by her going over and disturbing what little sleep Harm had, she had placed fatigue right at the top of the risk chart.
Mac flipped over a file that her concentration barely registered. Why had she even been in the briefing room if the mission hadn't made her participation compulsory? In fact, why had she even been called by the admiral into the room? Was it just a way for the admiral to dig the knife in and make it stick? Here's what your friend is going to be doing and just for your information, you're not going to be a part of it? A knock at the door distracted her from what little attention she had been paying to the law file. Her door opened, then the audible click of the door as it was closed then footsteps approached her desk. "Who is it?" Mac said barely looking up from the file.
"Sarah?" she looked up to see Clay standing in front of her desk. "Now, we talk about the role that you will be playing in the mission."
"I thought I was going to be shuffling papers." Mac growled. "It didn't seem like you had any part for me to take part in."
"Well, it was a need to know…" Webb replied laconically and then relented by explaining. "The less each part of our mission knows, the less likely it is for the other to be compromised in case that something happens to one piece."
Mac snorted. "So, who's going to cover all of my case files." She said, still not looking up from her files.
Her door opened again and a blonde officer in navy blues, three full sleeve rings denoting a commander; stepped into the office. Mac was about to growl who the hell are you? The blonde commander answered her question. "I'll be taking over the files." Her twang hinted of a childhood in Texas. "I was called in by the admiral to take over on the Imes case. And Commander Manetti is grabbing whatever other files there are. We'll be your substitutes for Commander Rabb and yourself while you're both away." The way the blonde commander said Commander Rabb just grated on Mac and she looked up at the commander.
"Who the hell are you?" the unspoken question was now out in the open.
"Well, Lieutenant Colonel Mackenzie." Mac just about gnashed her teeth. "I'm Commander Meg Austin."…and just to stick the knife in a bit more, CDR Austin smiled, her eyes twinkling in merriment which just made Mac even more irritable. "I used to be Commander Rabb's partner before I was temporarily reassigned to a different post."
Well, that disclosure pretty much dumped Mac's day completely in the crapper. Of all the people to replace her in the office, the admiral just had to bring in HER! Mac's day absolutely sucked – to top it all off, maybe the guy who prosecuted Harm with the Lieutenant Singer murder could take up whatever slack the admiral needed picked up. That would really make her day go the way she expected the rest of it to go.
A soft knock on the door. "Lieutenant Colonel Mackenzie, Ma'am…I'm Major Jack McBurney…"
JAG HQ, Falls Church, VA 1645hrs
"So you're telling me, Clay, that we're supposed to be the eyes on the ground?!" Mac's expression was incredulous. The anger in her eyes ensured that Clay knew just how she felt about the disclosure. "We're the ones who are going to be coordinating the GPS and laser-guided bombs if it comes down to it. Talk about sticking our hands in the serpent's den!" She shook her head. "The last time I went with you, you damned near got killed and I damned near got tortured with steel-wool heated up by electricity. Do you know what the hell that Sadik will do to the both of us if he captures us again?"
Clayton Webb leaned forward to make his point clear and softly said. "Sarah, you know that we have to do this, right?" Meg and MAJ McBurney had left the office, collecting the case files that Mac had assembled before Clay had started briefing her on the mission. "The Navy isn't allowing us to use any more naval assets other than the ones we have in the air. The two Super Hornets that are going up are all we have."
"I still don't like it." Mac's voice was more subdued, but Clay could see that her rigid posture had relaxed a little; letting him know that she knew that there was no other way. There would be no SEAL teams assigned to this mission unless the President signed off on that. So the only assets they would have on the ground would be CIA and one JAG officer. "So tell me, Clay…when do we have to get going."
"We're feet on the ground within 24 hrs after the admiral…" Mac knew that Clay was referring to RADM Nakamura this time; "lets us know that they're ready…that will be within 48 hours from now."
CIA HQ, Langley, VA 1700hrs
Deputy Director Harrison Kershaw looked over at the CIA Attorney. "Webb tells me that you're not liking the mission parameters set by the Agency." His tone was flat and uncompromising setting warning bells going off in Catherine's mind.
"As Agent Webb stated, you only have enough clearance to deal with the particulars of any case that goes through legal channels. Your job is to sweep the messes under the rug through legal means before we have to resort to other means to remove the messes. What falls under your job description…" he leaned in ominously. "…is not to create messes."
"Yes, sir." Catherine stated – the threat was clear. Don't go asking about this mission or else. She also knew that the Agency, unlike the military, didn't take care of their own. The hypocritical wall of stars on the Agency's wall was just a token offering to the fallen. The standard Agency rule if an agent got into trouble was that they were on their own – unprotected. The Agency would invoke plausible deniability. Harm was going into a death-trap along with the admiral with whom he had close friendship ties. And she was told by Kershaw just now that she should keep her nose out of it. All that she could do was hope and pray. She would not push it too far. But Catherine knew deep down that…
There were some days when this job just wasn't worth it.
Retreating to her office and picking up the files that she needed to concentrate on developing a rebuttal to – more FOIA requests for information that the CIA could not respond to; she put them in her briefcase and made ready to return home to an empty and lonely apartment.
Sana'a, Yemen, in a little café. 1100hrs
"You have what it is that I need." Sadik Fahd asked the arms dealer.
"Do you think that I would be carrying around a warhead in my pocket?" the Ukrainian arms dealer growled. "Do you think I'm stupid?"
"I did not ask if you were carrying it in your pocket, I asked if you have managed to find what it is that I require?" Fahd's eyes narrowed. This infidel was starting to annoy him. Too many people had found out what happened when Sadik Fahd got annoyed.
"Where shall the transfer take place?" Bohuslav Budny growled. "I do not transfer the warhead without half the money in my hands with the rest to be paid at time of transfer. For the risk, you understand." He looked over at the terrorist. It didn't matter that it was a weapon of mass destruction. For Bohuslav Budny, it was a transaction. Money was what counted."You do have the means with which to arm and detonate it?" he inquired.
"You have no need of that information." Fahd replied. "Rest assured though, the Americans will not be amused." Fahd knew that he had the technicians and the necessary knowledge base of nuclear scientists whom he had managed to recruit to his cause to fashion several nuclear suit-case bombs that he would distribute around the United States. All he required now were martyrs to the cause.
"My friend, what this money has bought you is not only a RT-2PM Topol but the MAZ-7917 launcher to go with it. But you will be required to figure out where to launch this missile from." Fadh's eyes went wide at Budny's admission. To get his hands on an honest-to-goodness, Allah be praised, nuclear missile which the capability to launch it anywhere within a radius of 10,000 km. "We will make the transfer in Port Said. I have managed to rent a cargo transport ship from Sevastopol through the Bosphorus Strait and on through the Mediterranean to Port Said. The shipment will arrive in four days. We will meet at Port Said to greet the ship's arrival."
"And how do you keep the Egyptians from throwing a major fit over nuclear weapons being transported to their country." Fadh asked.
"Well…let us just say that money talks." Budny's look was grim. "Enough money paves a path where one is not apparent." With plans made, Budny got up from his seat after the suitcase of money had been transferred to him. A slight crack of the briefcase assured him that the contents were genuine. A nod to Fahd, and Budny melted into the weqt alegheda' crowd. Fahd had much to do before they could make the
CFB Gander VOQ, Newfoundland, 0400hrs
Harm had roused himself from the bed after getting some much needed sleep. They would be wheels up at 0700hrs, which meant that he had enough time to help the 103rd Maintenance techs of the Royal Canadian Air Force to go over their aircraft in time to grab a bite to eat and be present at the morning pre-flight briefing.
Grabbing his flight-suit, he dressed quickly, socks and shoes going on next. Then making sure that his face was clean-shaven (owing to the oxygen mask he would be wearing today for at least eight hours), he made his way down to the hangar where the two Super Hornets were being looked over. Despite the punishment detail, Harm's mood was cheery and he greeted the Master Corporal and Sergeant who were in charge of the crew looking over the Super Hornets. Certainly the Super Hornet was an entirely different aircraft than the Legacy Hornet, however the Canadians were looking at replacing their CF-188A Hornets and the F-35A JSF was the candidate, however Canada needed an interim replacement and was looking to lease from Boeing sixty-five F/A-18E & F Super Hornets as a stop-gap as the F-35 was running into developmental problems. Well, at least the Canucks were buying American instead of the British EF 2000 Eurofighter or the Swedish Gripen. Well, there was nothing like good ol'fashioned US Air Power, Harm thought as he looked over at his Super Hornet.
It was about 0520 when Animal wandered into the hangar, nodded tersely at Harm when he saw Harm and asked him, "You get some decent sleep yesterday? So I don't have to find a shark to feed your ass to?"
"Yes, sir. I've got a good twelve hours of sleep…and I'm ready-to-go." He grinned.
"Bright eyed and bushy-tailed, right, Rabb?" Animal snorted sarcastically. "Good – because we're going to try to make Jeddah tonight. Then I can tell that damned spook that he can suck rocks."
"Sir?" Harm looked at the grumpy admiral with a curious expression. Animal didn't elucidate any further.
"Let's get our minds on the mission." Animal shook his head and said tersely. "Briefings at oh-six hundred. We're wheels up at oh-seven." Then stalked off to Gander meteorological to obtain the updated flight weather and to file a flight plan.
CFB Gander tarmac, Newfoundland, 0640hrs
Harm and Skates walked around the F/A-18F Super Hornet while a bit farther down the flightline, Animal and Scooter were doing the same. When they were finished their exterior walk-around, they climbed the ladder provided for them and mounted up.
"Gander Tower, Black Lion 206, Departure, TransLant, Reykjavik. Take-off clearance, echelon takeoff with Black Lion 208?"
"Roger, Black Lion 206, Gander Tower, echelon take-off clearance approved, TransLant, destination Reykjavik. You are cleared to proceed onto Runway One-Three. Copy?"
"Roger, Gander Tower, this is Black Lion 206, Proceed Runway One-Three." Animal proceeded onto the runway as Harm radioed in for his take-off clearance. When his was approved, Harm trundled onto the runway and formed up beside him on the starboard side of the center line and slightly aft. Looking down the runway, Animal could see some early-bird plane-watchers to the fence on his port-hand side about one-third of the way down. Animal grinned in the mirror at his WSO, Scooter. "Well, let's give these aircraft aficionados a good departure." Looking over at his starboard side where Harm was stationed with his F/A-18F, Animal lifted a thumbs-up. Harm and Skates lifted up there thumbs to indicate that they understood the departure.
The airplane photogs were there with their cameras and lenses witnessing a sight that they weren't able to see very often, two American aircraft taking off from a Canadian airport. And it seemed there were a few more as Animal eased the throttles forward, starting his take-off roll. Streaking past the observation parking lot, mid-take-off roll, Animal calculated that he'd rotate the nose up just as the two aircraft hit the six-thousand five hundred foot mark. And there was no mistake as the nose-wheel left the ground that the main-wheel mounts felt light and the Super Hornet pulled into a 20 degree climb, Harm hot on his starboard aft position. Animal grinned behind his oxygen mask and then pushed the throttle past its detents into afterburner, then cranked the nose up. Bullshit, that the scuttlebutt out there was that the F/A-18F couldn't accelerate past Mach 1 at 10,000 feet. Yeah, right… Animal missed the Tomcat, but there wasn't any way that he'd give any credence to lies about the capabilities of this fighter. The Super Hornet accelerated in the pitch up as Animal rolled the F/A-18F, spiralling up into the climb as the F/A-18F Super Hornet broken Angels 30. Pointing their noses NE towards Reykjavik, the two Super Hornets continued their journey eastward across the Atlantic Ocean.
NAS Keflavik, Keflavik, Iceland 1500hrs
Animal radioed to Harm and said that they were diverting to Keflavik from their planned stop at Reykjavik. They would be arriving on Runway One-one. At least there, they could get Navy resources, and plan ahead to their arrival at Lakenheath. And military refuelling crews would be able to get the turnaround under one and a half hours so that they could be back in the air. Three hours in the air plus three hours time difference between Gander and Keflavik meant that they'd be on the ground at 1800 hrs in Lakenheath and then a six hour flight to Jeddah with an air to air refuelling over the Aegean Sea.
Animal grinned as the wheels of their Super Hornets touched down at Keflavik. "Wonder what's on the menu…" a bite of Navy chow and a chance to hit the head before they had to strap the Super Hornet on the leg to the UK. Everybody was 100 percent, no reasons for delay this time around.
And less than an hour and a half later, they were doing preflight checks on the aircraft and heading back out to Runway One-One for take-off.
It was a three hour flight to Lakenheath which meant that their wheels would be touching ground at 1940hrs.
RAF Lakenheath, Lakenheath, UK 1940hrs.
The two F/A-18Fs circled on final approach to Runway Two Four passing over Brandon Road "Let's show those zoomies how we Navy aviators do it." Animal radioed to Harm.
"Roger that, Animal." Was Harm's reply tinged with laughter audible from Skates in Harm's backseat.
"We got a short turnaround and on to Jeddah." Animal said as they taxied into the 48th Fighter Wing ramp.
When the two F/A-18Fs popped canopy, the zoomie technical sergeant looked and said. "When did you Navy show up here?"
Animal grinned, "We got lonely for company and decided that we'd drop in for some eats and a tank of gas."
"…so which way to the officer's mess?" Harm inquired.
"Right this way, sir." The tech-sergeant said amicably. "Hope Air Force chow is up to your Navy standards, sir."
"If my stomach rebels, I'll let you know." Skates replied as they walked towards the operations building which was a bit of a walk as the ramp was rather large. Her stomach was hungry and they didn't have much to eat at Reykjavik, a quick snack of a donut at the Keflavik mess and then back up in the air. "I'm famished." She said to Harm.
"Well, we oughta be able to take care of that stomach of yours…" Harm replied.
"Are you saying I'm fat, Harm?" Harm gulped. The tone that Skates used on him was much like Catherine when Harm said something stupid. And he wasn't about to get himself skewered on a pitchfork.
An Air Force colonel walked out to meet them as the group headed out of the parking spot on the ramp that . "Colonel Jeffrey Mikolajczak, United States Air Force, Commander RAF Lakenheath. Saw your Navy Hornets land and thought I'd introduce myself. So you require fuel for the next leg of your trip?"
"Yes, Colonel Mikolajczak. Rear Admiral Toshio Nakamura, US Navy COMNAVAIRLANT." Animal assumed his admiral's demeanor as Colonel Mikolajczak braced to attention and nodded. "We'll be doing an air-to-air refueling enroute to our final base of operations, but we're going to need to be able to have enough fuel to reach our rendezvous. Can you provide us that?"
"Yes, sir. We'll do whatever we can to make sure that your birds are ready to fly. How soon were you planning on getting airborne again?"
"I'd like to get a bite to eat and have a chance to use the head…then we'll see how things go." Animal replied.
"Yes, sir. I'll let the mess know that you're requiring chow, sir and we'll make sure that you guys get something in your stomachs before gear-up." The colonel replied.
"Thank you kindly." Animal replied for the rest of the group. "Oh, and please let your refueling crews and the rest of the base understand that we have no time for zapping…and any foreign zaps on our aircraft will be returned…" Animal raised an eyebrow "…in kind."
"Yes, sir!" the colonel said noting to ensure that the orders were followed and reversed course to do so.
Animal winked at Skates who was the only one of the other three to quickly get what Animal was up to, as he walked past an F-15C Eagle and looked up at that aircraft. He could feel in the left hand breast pocket of his flight suit the triangular shape of a few COMNAVAIRLANT stickers and grinned an evil grin. Looking over at the nose-wheel door, he grinned as he lagged a few feet behind, then watching to make sure that no-one was watching, he swiftly peeled off the backing of the sticker that he pulled out of his flight-suit pocket and then ducked under the F-15C and swiftly applied the sticker on the outside of the F-15C's nose-wheel door. Then he swiftly accelerated pace and headed over to as the rest of them were walking up to the operations building. "Sorry about that. Forgot something in the aircraft, had to go back."
When the refueling and chow was done, Animal and Harm along with their WSOs made a quick getaway.
Two hours after that; an F-15C pilot walked out to 86-164 and did his walk-around check. His mind didn't register anything and he finished the walk around and got in his F-15C and took off for his low-level training mission through the Mach Loop with his wingman.
"Gator 164, Gator 086. You notice anything on your nose-wheel door during walkaround?"
"Negative, Gator 086, I saw absolutely nothing out of the ordinary."
"Maybe you need to get your eyes checked. Gator 164. Looks like you got a Navy zap on your nose wheel door." The acknowledgement was accompanied by a scathing expletive with which he got royally rounded out for by Ground Control.
Over the Aegean Sea 0012hrs
Animal grumbled to his WSO. "Do you have anything on scope regarding a tanker in the area? I don't want to have to ditch."
"Looks like we have one bearing 030 squawking 216.7." Scooter replied as he looked up from his ever-present watch on the scope.
"Roger that…" Animal replied. "Looks like we'll be able to take a drink soon enough."
The two F/A-18Fs closed in on the aerial refueling tanker.
"Texaco, Black Lion 206. Vector?"
"Roger that…Black Lion 206 you are at 210, eight miles."
"Windshield wash and a fill-up thanks…" Animal said as they closed in and managed to hook in on the probe-and-drogue. A quick fill-up later and Animal released so that Harm could have a go at it. When they were done, they quickly detached and headed towards Jeddah and their final wheels down until they could communicate with Clayton Webb to let him know that they were there.
Prince Abdullah Air Base, Jeddah, Saudi Arabia
Animal and Harm landed on Runway Three-Four Right and taxied into the Prince Abdullah Air Base Ramp. After deplaning, Animal looked over at Harm. "I gotta call that idiot back and tell them that we're here."
Pulling out his satellite phone he punched in a number and said, "Snake Pen, Vipers Grounded."
"Viper…understood." Came the reply. "What took you so long."
"Look, Snake Pen…I'm hot and tired and I want a shower and something to eat; now quit chattering and let me get off the damned phone!" Animal clicked off the phone and grinned at Harm, Skates and Scooter. "Let's go get something to eat."